Good morning my little chickens and waffles, how’s every little thing?
Me? I’m super. Okay yes, technically I did break a bar stool moments before Cristiano Ronaldo scored a sizzling goal to equalize for Madrid during Saturday’s el Clásico against Barcelona, which was dead embarrassing, but I didn’t miss the goal and I didn’t spill my pint so I’m still taking that as a big W.
Also, I got mistaken for being from Spain, which is about the coolest thing that has ever happened to me in the history of…well, ever. Yeah, pretty much ever.
I’d just finished watching the match and was leaving a nearby paletería, coco paleta in hand. Oh, for those of you who don’t have access to paletas (and thus no probable reason to live) a paleta is a popsicle-type thing made of fresh seasonal fruit. Normally you have to wait for the paleta man to come by with his little cart, but as it is unbecoming of a woman of my social (not to mention physical) stature to chase an infinitesimally small and surprisingly easily-spooked Mexican man down the street while waving a wad of cash, I was delighted to find a little shop that sold them, a dollar a pop, from a little freezer.
Anyhoodle, I’m traipsing down the sidewalk in my magic jeans, beautifully-fitted Xabi Alonso jersey and 5″ Diane Von Furstenberg cobalt pony heels (made from real cobalt ponies!) enjoying the first paleta of summer and trying to make 100% certain that second-half pint was out of my system before getting behind the wheel.
I popped into La Merced, because any place that advertises itself as a combination “Groceria, Carneceria y Discoteca” –grocer, butcher and discotheque– is a place I want to see the inside of.
While inside the admittedly disappointing grocer/butcher/disco (is a discoball made out of a haggis dipped in broken mirrors really too much to ask? I submit that it is not) I pretty much got the same response I always get when I walk into a place catering to a mostly Mexican clientele while wearing some sort of Spanish soccer jersey: a mix of confusion, suspicion, appreciation and fascination which I never really understood.
On my way back to the car, still enjoying my coco paleta, I hear a muffled whistle, then a much clearer one.You know, a real, old school wolf whistle of the variety usually reserved for cartoons where Bugs Bunny is dressed in drag.
Yeah yeah, I know I’m getting my humorless feminist card revoked as soon as I hit “publish” but after the second whistle and a call of “Miss! Miss!” I turned around.
If a guy is going to take the trouble to leave his place of business to whistle at me in the middle of a sunny Saturday afternoon, I’m going to turn around to see.
He was precious.
I was easily a foot if not an actual foot and a half taller than he was and when I turned around he hesitated as if he’d just caught a shark with a minnow then asked in Spanish if I knew the score of el Clásico. I answered him –also in Spanish– that it was a 1-1 draw, with Messi putting one past San Iker and then Cristiano Ronaldo answering in the second.
More confusion…
“Are you from America or Spain?”
I answered and he explained that he thought I was from Spain (the Xabi shirt, and the Spanish-from-Spain slang) and was purposefully misunderstanding him just to be a language snob.
Which brings me to my major point:
Pep Guardiola is smokin’ hot.
Anyway, I know about 900% of you pretty much glaze over whenever I talk about Proper Football and I could probably just write a random string of words here and none of you will care or notice porcupine guadalajara bassinet but how had I never noticed this before?
I know I tend to focus my affections on silver fox, Real Madrid gaffer Jose Mourinho, but the Barcelona manager certainly brings the smoldering skinny-tied hotness. Not too surprising considering he started out looking like this:
And I gotta tell you, the designer buzz ‘n’ fuzz? Is doing it for me in a big way.
Mmmhmm, definitely my favorite look for well-aged soccer stars (gratuitous pic of Zizou? Don’t mind if I dou!)
Plus he seems to be just a really decent egg.
There’s an oft-trotted out story of how as a kid in the Barca system, Cesc Fabregas idolized then-team captain Guardiola. When Pep found out Cesc was having a hard time dealing with his parents’ divorce, the superstar gave young Cesc his own #4 jersey, and to this day, Fabregas –now captain of Arsenal– plays in a #4 kit as an homage to his childhood hero.
Was that just an excuse to give you a picture of Cesc Fabregas? Yes, yes it was. Do you have a problem with that?
Didn’t think so.
I do like the jaunty scarf on the hot shaved-head guy.
Comment by The gold digger — April 18, 2011 @ 9:05 am
Buen gusto. Very good taste indeed, Ms Plumcake.
Comment by aa — April 18, 2011 @ 9:18 am
You can write about proper football all you want, if you keep putting pics like these. How about some italian footballer love? My heart belongs to Gig Buffon, but there is a number of Italian hotties
Comment by Klee — April 18, 2011 @ 10:52 am
@Klee: Ah, I am biased against
Softie ASerie A for two very important and legitimate reasons. Reason 1) I think it’s lazy, self-indulgent play. Reason 2) SoccerBoy was a six year veteran of BC Atalanta and thus the entire league is Dead To Me for at least another five years. The Belgian Pro League just BARELY made it back into my good graces, and I was the one who broke the poor KV Mechelen player’s heart when I was 20!@AA: I thought you’d approve. The Special One is still MY special one, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with what Pep’s serving up. Although obviously I’d be more than happy to make a thorough examination in the name of science in an effort to prove myself wrong.
@The Gold Digger: I do too, and unlike examples I’ve seen in the states, it looks surprisingly butch on European guys. I’m normally a proponent of clean-shaven men, but the designer scruff and #1 blade cut on a gentleman over 40 is suiting me juuuust fine.
Comment by Miss Plumcake — April 18, 2011 @ 11:57 am
I must confess I’m a teeeeeeny bit biassed against *cough* the Devil’s Spawn *cough* Mourinho, but then, I’m a Sporting de Gijón follower (and no, I won’t be smug about the whole Mourinho-Preciado faceoff).
It has to be said that The Evil One is sexy in a nasty sort of way, though. Pep’s is more of a Zen master kind of sexy, I think (like Valdano back in the day).
Comment by aa — April 18, 2011 @ 2:53 pm
YUMMYYY!!!
As a side note- I still remember the day in Spain when a man from Sweden asked me what part of Spain I was from… Gave this All American girl a little glow–I had been living in Spain for 4 years at that point and aspired to be seen as a Spaniard.
Comment by Kimks — April 18, 2011 @ 4:19 pm
I don’t know what any of that up there means…but I do know that every one of those men are fine as frog hair….
Comment by Jeanine — April 18, 2011 @ 9:53 pm
In addition to echoing the comments regarding today’s photo exhibits (Yum!), I would love a picture of your DVF cobalt blue pony heels. They sound like they are to die for. :)
Comment by katinka — April 18, 2011 @ 10:16 pm
Now I have to ask–who were you rooting for?? (Me, I’m a Madridista through and through–I can’t even find Pep attractive. Pity! But luckily we have more gorgeousness in CR7’s overly-tanned pinky than Barca has on their whole squad so I can keep myself entertained…ahem.)
Comment by Kim — April 18, 2011 @ 11:33 pm
@Kim: I was rooting for the beauty of the game. Normally I’m a Madridista too, but how can you not love Messi? Meanwhile, I wouldn’t touch CR7 with Puyol’s.
Comment by Miss Plumcake — April 19, 2011 @ 5:49 am
Being that I am a European though not too much into fotboll(soccer)I must admit to having had the worst athletecrush ever on Eric Cantona when he played for Manchester U *sigh* My family is more into soccer than I am and my SO is a die-hard Messi follower. He and my sis in law are often on opposite sides since she is rooting for Real Madrid (she was rooting for Man U before that so you can probably guess the reason for the change, Ronaldo)
Comment by Ravna — April 19, 2011 @ 10:09 am